


Won't Give Up Without a Fight

by venis_envy



Series: Mating Games: Round 2 [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Related, Established Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Skittles, memory sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1785901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venis_envy/pseuds/venis_envy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott knows Stiles is still in there. He just needs him to hang on a little longer, until they find a way to save him.</p><p>#13 in Mating Games Challenge 5: Canon Divergence</p><p>Based on episode 319: Letharia Vulpina (but obviously diverges a little, because, well...that's the challenge, right?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Won't Give Up Without a Fight

Scott swallows back his terror as he watches Kira fall, chokes on the flair of searing pain radiating through his middle. Unfamiliar eyes look at him, taunting.

“You okay?” There’s a shift in Stiles’ demeanor, an eerie level of confidence that Scott knows doesn’t belong to his best friend.

“Please don’t. Stop.” Scott’s words fall on deaf ears as Stiles taps out a rhythm on the hilt of the katana.

He’s powerless to stop the nogitsune. Nothing short of slicing through Stiles’ throat will fell the demon, and Scott won’t do that. He can’t.

“It’s okay,” Stiles says.

He wraps his fingers around the hilt gingerly—a gesture Scott has seen before, but never meant in such a hateful way. Never meant to cause pain. Stiles claps a hand, casual, almost friendly, on Scott’s shoulder and Scott scrambles for a way to pull Stiles out of the darkness in his mind. Tug him forward, demand he regain control. 

Before he’s able to come up with anything, Stiles is twisting the blade in Scott’s gut, hot and sharp. It’s a pain like nothing Scott’s felt before, blackening his insides, fogging his mind. He squeezes his eyes shut, grits his teeth against it. Scott wonders if this could be it. If this pain, combined with the betrayal and helplessness that are blotting out everything else, could possibly be the thing that kills him, supernatural or not.

“Does it hurt?” Stiles asks. His tone is frighteningly intimate as he leans close. Scott can feel his breath on his face, and he tries to hang onto that. To pull himself out of this anguish with a different memory of this sort of closeness. “No. Look at me.”

It takes what feels like Scott’s last vestige of strength to raise his eyes to meet Stiles’, and when he does, he only sees his best friend standing there before him, eyes warm and caring.

“Stiles, don’t,” Scott tries to say, but the words come out choked and weak, garbled with the blood rising in his throat.

His instincts are telling him to fight, to lash out, no matter the cost. But he can’t. He _can’t._ Stiles is still in there, still fighting the nogitsune from inside his own mind, and if there’s any chance of him surviving this, Scott won’t be the one to end him. Not even if this costs him his own life. 

He lets his head fall back, groans in agony. Stiles’ hand feels warm against Scott’s face as he tips his head up. There's another flicker of awareness in Stiles' eyes before darkness eclipses them again. Scott knows he's fighting, trying to regain control. 

Stiles twists the blade again, tugging and tearing at Scott's flesh, blood soaking his skin.

He has to find something, _something_ to bring Stiles back to himself. Scott’s breath sticks in his throat as he shudders in a lungful of air, prepares to pull any powers he can manage from deep within.

Scott wraps unsteady fingers around Stiles’ wrist, wills the red to flood his eyes as he calls out Stiles’ name again, forceful, demanding.

There’s recognition in Stiles’ gaze this time, horror, regret. His hand is still pressed against Scott’s face.

Tears well in Stiles' eyes. His lip trembles as he leans forward, rests his forehead against Scott's. 

There's stillness all around, and Scott can hear the thundering of Stiles' heart. 

Not knowing what else to do, Scott surges forward, ignoring the shift of the blade as he presses his mouth to Stiles', wraps a hand around the back of Stiles' neck, and pierces the skin there with sharp claws. 

There's a moment where the pain connects them, pulls them together in a miasma of swirling agony, then Stiles is kissing him back, going lax as Scott pours all of his memories into Stiles' thoughts. Memories of them, together; kissing, touching. He thinks of lips pressed against his inner wrist; the way Stiles moans Scott’s name into his neck as Scott fucks into him, stretches him open, fills him up; Stiles smiling at him, kissing his chin as he rolls on top of him. Scott just wants it all back. He wants lazy Saturdays exchanging blowjobs, or quiet kisses that don’t have to lead to anything else.

Scott forces these memories to the forefront of Stiles' mind. All of the love and devotion shared between them. 

"I need you...to hang on," Scott says against Stiles' lips. "Please. I'll save you. I swear to god, Stiles. Just keep fighting."

With shaky, stilted motions, Stiles’ hand pulls back, dragging the katana with it. His jaw is set in a hard line of determination, eyes shimmering with tears. His hand trembles as the blade clatters to the floor. 


End file.
